


Inferno

by grandsequel (Yunho)



Category: Dong Bang Shin Ki, JYJ - Fandom, K-pop
Genre: Angels, Demons, M/M, Smut, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-22
Updated: 2012-06-22
Packaged: 2017-11-08 07:09:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/440515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yunho/pseuds/grandsequel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shameless porn, where Yunho and Changmin are demons and Jaejoong is an angel. And uh...angry!Homin sex?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inferno

The look Changmin was piercing him with could only be described as one of disdain. Without even turning around, Yunho could imagine the boy standing behind him had his face set in an annoyed scowl, the gears in his head ticking away with intentions of officious meddling and preparing to tell him off.   
  
Yunho ignored him, tugging the leather glove onto his hand before running the hand across his chin, relishing the feel of the supple material against his skin.   
  
“Is this really necessary?” Changmin finally asked and Yunho smiled to himself. The kid was still too predictable.   
  
He could  _hear_  the annoyance in Changmin’s voice, but like a rebellious teenager, Yunho only felt more fueled by it. “I keep telling you, you don’t have to watch over me like I’m some incompetent child. I’m perfectly capable of handling this on my own.”   
  
“Right,” Changmin scoffed. “Handling this? You can’t even control yourself, you’re so whipped. Look at yourself Yunho—he calls you and you just go loping up to him like some pathetic  _dog_ —”   
  
Before Changmin even finished the last word, Yunho spun around and his now gloved hand wrapped tightly around his neck, squeezing, adding pressure slowly but steadily. He smiled, showing a row of enviably straight teeth. “ _Don’t_  ever imply I’ve been ‘whipped,’” he whispered, the tenor of his voice carrying through the empty room. “What I do with him is of my own volition, so your concern for my being, while appreciated, is unnecessary.”   
  
The fingers tightened a bit more, eliciting small gasps from the younger boy in his grip before Yunho finally released him, stepping back and straightening his crisp uniform jacket. Changmin’s hand travelled to his neck, massaging the tender, now reddened, skin as he gazed at Yunho’s smirking face.    
  
“You’re making a mistake. Actually, you’ve  _been_  making this mistake.” Changmin would never learn to keep his mouth shut, Yunho mused silently to himself.   
  
“Maybe. But this is one mistake I don’t mind making.”   
  
“And when his  _daddy_  finds out? What’ll you do then, defend his  _honor_ ?  _Protect_  him because you care so much about his wellbeing?”   
  
If Changmin thought to fluster Yunho with his statement, the attempt was proven useless as the smile on Yunho’s face only widened, eerie and not in any sense pleasant. “You think I’m worried about Him finding out?”   
  
Changmin tried to hide his surprise at the nonchalance in his friend’s voice. “I think you  _should_  be.”   
  
Yunho laughed, stepping farther back, hand extended out and calling forth a small flame that quickly grew in intensity, soon the fires from his hand nearly engulfing him. He didn’t bother saying anything, the echo of his laugh expressing what his mouth would never admit. With a last look around their empty chambers, Yunho disappeared behind a curtain of flames.   
  
  
  
  
It was cold—it was  _always_  cold here, but maybe that was just because he spent most of his life down in the inferno of hell.   
  
He stood unmoving, hand still extended out despite the fires now fading away from his body, his limbs already missing the licks of heat his friends provided. He looked around and appraised the area with a critical eye but he’d been here enough times by now to know every stone and every smoothed brick. That didn’t mean he found the order and rigid structure any less disgusting.   
  
He could see, some feet away on the fountain, that Jaejoong was already there, lying on his back with his knees up, feet flat on the outer edge of the fountain he lay on. His arms were crossed behind his head and if Yunho had been anyone else, he’d have suspected Jaejoong to be asleep.   
  
“You’re late,” he stated as Yunho stepped closer to him. He could see Jaejoong had his eyes closed. He didn’t bother to move or make to get up even when Yunho approached.   
  
“Where are your friends?” he asked, ignoring the statement entirely. He stopped an arm’s length away, gaze sweeping over Jaejoong’s frame and unconsciously licking his lips.   
  
“Who? Junsu and Yoochun?”   
  
Yunho scowled, and didn’t care whether Jaejoong saw or not as he remembered back to the last time they’d met, when Jaejoong’s friends had followed him in a fit of concern.  _Idiots_ , he thought silently to himself. Of course their presence, though cloaked by disillusionment, hadn’t deterred Yunho in the least.   
  
“Don’t worry, I made sure I wasn’t followed this time,” and finally, Jaejoong’s eyes opened, revealing the soft browns of his irises. Yunho swallowed thickly as Jaejoong sent him a soft look, lips curving up in a small smile. There were few times Yunho lost his composure and each of those times somehow always seemed to involve Jaejoong.    
  
He tore his eyes away and stared instead at Jaejoong’s lips. He probably didn’t even know what he did to Yunho, the way his lips jutted out and looked so full and tempting and just so—Fuck.   
  
_Control_ , he chastised himself, angry at his lapse. His irritation must have showed on his face because the smile dropped from Jaejoong’s face as he slowly sat up, bare feet swinging over and falling to the cold ground. “What’s wrong?”   
  
“Shut up,” he hissed, dropping to his knees and pushing Jaejoong’s legs apart, gripping his thighs in his hands. He could feel Jaejoong’s smooth, warm skin through the thin white trousers he wore, the flesh intoxicating as he slid in between his legs. His arms found their way around Jaejoong’s waist, holding him tightly as he buried his face into his navel, right in the slit of his shirt.   
  
“Yun—,” Jaejoong gasped, fingers clutching Yunho’s jacket, tightening over his shoulders. This wasn’t supposed to happen, they both knew it, but for Yunho, it was precisely that element of forbidden pleasure that had him so addicted.   
  
“Don’t speak,” he growled, and it was a command Jaejoong knew to follow, because anything else and there was no knowing what Yunho would do. Yunho was dangerous in a way that wasn’t often encountered. He knew it himself, took pride in keeping people on their toes.    
  
Jaejoong’s fingers were light, almost gentle, as they released Yunho’s shoulders and trailed up his neck, lingering over his cheeks, before tangling in his hair. He tugged, his grasp firm, until Yunho pulled away. Words weren’t needed because the look they shared spoke volumes.   
  
Before Yunho could make another move, Jaejoong bent over, his mouth crashing against Yunho’s in a heated, unforgiving kiss.    
  
“Why do you always make me wait?” he asked breathlessly, pulling away. Yunho latched onto his bottom lip, biting hard before soothing away the ache with his tongue. His eyes were open, watching Jaejoong above him, whose own pupils were so blown his eyes appeared black.   
  
“Why shouldn’t I?” Yunho licked his way across Jaejoong’s cheek, down to his neck. His tongue was hot, almost as hot as the fire simmering within him, as he smothered the skin beneath his mouth with bite after bite. What the rumors said was right, he thought absently. Angels were indeed heavenly.   
  
“Next time I— _oh yes_ —won’t wait then. I don’t deserve—”   
  
Whatever he meant to say was lost in a cry as Yunho abruptly pulled away, somewhat awkwardly spinning Jaejoong and bending him over the edge of the fountain, hand pressed hard against his neck and holding him down. His lips grazed the back of Jaejoong’s neck, the touches gentle but his hands still firm.   
  
“I owe you  _nothing_ ,” he hissed into Jaejoong’s ear. “Don’t ever forget that.”   
  
Jaejoong moaned. Yunho was always like this, always harsh and quick to anger. There was something telling in the way his patience had the perpetuity of a fuse—a short one.    
  
“What’re you doing?” Jaejoong asked. Yunho’s hands had moved, wrapping around his middle before suddenly yanking the jacket he wore back. His arms were caught in the sleeves and another yelp was pulled from him at the sudden pricks of pain in his shoulders. Yunho was uncaring of his hurt as he worked the jacket off, carelessly throwing it to the side when it was removed.   
  
Jaejoong tried to protest, tried to pull away because this wasn’t usually how their trysts went. But Yunho wouldn’t have listened anyway and even before Jaejoong could say anything, there was the unmistakable sound of ripping, his already flimsy shirt being torn in the back by Yunho’s hands.   
  
The shirt was pulled aside, exposing Jaejoong’s smooth, creamy back to Yunho’s eyes. The muscle that lined his shoulders and beneath the nape of his neck looked delicious, so perfect. Yunho couldn’t resist mouthing along down Jaejoong’s spine, relishing in the heady sounds that fell from those normally innocent lips.    
  
Jaejoong groaned beneath him, his hands clutching the fountain wall, and Yunho could  _feel_  him trembling, could feel his perfect form quivering from the assault he was wreaking on his body. It was empowered, knowing he had so much control over Jaejoong.   
  
He was hungry for this, hungry and aching for the other male. His hips rocked against the swell of Jaejoong’s lower back, his excitement clear as his erection pressed into the smaller man’s hip. When Jaejoong whimpered his name, the sound shred him of all control and he was lost.   
  
The glove on his right hand was torn off. He flexed his fingers once before slapping harshly against Jaejoong’s shoulder blades. His skin was hot, searing beneath his palms and it only pushed him further.   
  
“No, Yunho, what’re you—” Every protest was ignored though. Yunho fingered the slits beneath the sharp, prominent shoulder blades, blunt nails raking over Jaejoong’s sinewy muscle. He knew exactly what was beneath his hands—knew and wanted to see them.   
  
His hands began to heat up. Hotter and hotter they grew until they were only a step away from emitting flames. Jaejoong continued to cry out, struggling to move away from him. “ _Stop—Stop, it hurts!_ ”    
  
He tried to push Yunho off of him but couldn’t, not from the position he was held in.   
  
“Pull them out,” Yunho said calmly, masking the excitement he felt. “I want to see your wings—come on Jaejoong, show me your  _wings_ .” The way he spat the final word conveyed just what he thought of Jaejoong’s feathery appendages but Jaejoong was too concentrated on the rolling waves of pain to notice.   
  
He didn’t think, only wanted the fire on his back to go away. With a sharp sound, he focused for a wavering moment before the wings Yunho was so adamant on seeing burst forth in a flurry of feathers out from his back.   
  
They extended out nearly six feet on both sides, glimmering white against the fading sunlit sky. It was the first time Yunho had ever seen them and he was mesmerized, shocked to speechlessness at the spectacle. He’d known angel wings and their beauty, had seen others’ wings before, but never Jaejoong’s. If he’d known—if he’d ever seen before—   
  
His hands fell away almost of their own accord. Jaejoong lay gasping, eyes pinched shut as he waited for the pain and panic to pass. Yunho took the time to admire everything, from the tips of wings to the axillars protruding from Jaejoong’s back.    
  
He couldn’t help himself, so enchanted was he. He plucked a feather from the right wing unthinkingly. A sound like a bird’s wail sounded when he pulled it off but he ignored it, sticking the feather into his dark trousers.   
  
He let his hands warm again, though not nearly to the same searing temperature as earlier, before placing them over the base of the wings, part on them and part on Jaejoong’s back. He rubbed soothingly, leaning down and cooing words of comfort in Jaejoong’s ear as he tried to ease him back to awareness.   
  
His tongue flicked out, tasting the shell of Jaejoong’s ear. Jaejoong was gasping now, short, harsh breaths falling past his lips. He was whimpering Yunho’s name still but Yunho knew the question behind the word, knew Jaejoong was really asking him  _why?_   
  
After several long moments, Yunho eventually pulled away, placing a final gentle kiss to Jaejoong’s naked shoulder as he skimmed the ground with his fingers for the removed glove. He found it and slipped it back on before standing, stepping away from his angel.   
  
“Same time, same place tomorrow Jae,” he murmured huskily. He knew Jaejoong had heard from the way his head lifted slightly, piercing him with a betrayed look. It didn’t matter though—they both knew Jaejoong would be waiting for him despite what he’d done. Yunho was addicted to the angel, had been since the first time he’d taken his chastity.   
  
But Jaejoong was just as addicted.   
  
  
  
  
When Yunho appeared back in his room, Changmin was still waiting for him, sitting on the edge of his bed and leaning back with his hands splayed out behind him.   
  
“You’re back early,” he noted, not missing the little white feather sticking out from Yunho’s front pocket.   
  
Yunho smiled in return, the look in his eyes feral as Changmin sat up. He was silent stalking predatorily to where Changmin was perched, the black comforter wrinkling beneath his hands.   
  
He stopped and stared down at Changmin, both waiting to see what the other would do. Yunho was the first to move, raising his gloved hand and running his index finger sensually along Changmin’s lower lip. It quivered like the petal of a dew speckled rose, just as soft, just as smooth.   
  
Changmin surprised him, suddenly clasping onto the end of the finger with his teeth before tugging the glove off. Yunho watched as his head tilted back, shooting him a coy look from beneath the sweep of his dark lashes. His jaw clenched tightly as he pulled back, holding the leather between his teeth for a moment before dropping it into his lap.   
  
Yunho continued to run the pads of his fingers along Changmin’s face, catching the chin with his finger hooked, tilting his face to the side before his thumb swept once more against Changmin’s lips. A teasing tongue poked out, licking gently and the fire coiled in Yunho’s belly erupted.   
  
He shoved Changmin hard, not waiting for him to collect himself before falling atop him, pinning him to the bed with a firm grip on his shoulders. Their lips met in a clash of starving tongues and eager teeth, desire fueling them both. It was sloppy, their tongues meeting outside their mouths before Yunho invaded Changmin’s, trying to push him into submissiveness. He should have known better.   
  
Changmin was never one to take things lying down, neither literally nor figuratively. He raised his legs, rolling his hips against Yunho’s in the process. His knees slid around Yunho’s waist, ankles hooking around each other before he pushed hard against Yunho’s chest and rolled them over.   
  
His legs fell to Yunho’s sides as he sat up, breaking the kiss and panting hard as he straddled the older man. He hands seized a fistful of Yunho’s jacket before pulling it apart, not unlike the way Yunho had stripped Jaejoong of his own shirt minutes earlier.   
  
The way Changmin licked his lips, in Yunho’s opinion, was more than obscene, was wanton—his mouth open, head tilted back exposing the enticing curve of his neck, the prominent Adam’s apple bobbing once as he swallowed and let his tongue sweep the edges of his lips.    
  
Yunho watched as his head rolled down to the side before his eyes opened and regarded him with a hooded look, yearning sharp and clear in his open features. “I can taste him on you. I can see why you’re so obsessed with him.”   
  
Yunho glared up at him. “I’m not obsessed.”   
  
“Really? Coulda fooled me.” His fingers dug into Yunho’s chest, nails forming shallow crescent divots in the flesh before raking down to Yunho’s waistline, a light groan of pleasure escaping from Changmin as he did so. He couldn’t understand the ferocity of his need for Yunho, would never understand it probably, but it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered at the moment, not when Yunho was beneath him, gazing up at him with a feral look on his face.   
  
Yunho rolled his eyes. “Jealous?”   
  
“Of your stupid angel? No.” Changmin’s hips rocked down harder. “Why should I be? Not like I’ve only got you lying around. Besides,” he leaned down, face centimeters from Yunho’s as their fingers laced together before Changmin held them above Yunho’s head, “that’s what I’ve got Minho for,” he whispered.   
  
Yunho’s eyes darkened, this time in fury. “I told you to stay away from that human,” he growled.   
  
Changmin merely laughed, breath blowing hot against Yunho’s face. “And you think that’s going to stop me?” he taunted. He closed his eyes, concentrating for a moment as he called small balls of light to his palms.    
  
When he opened his eyes again, the room was bathed in iridescent light coming from his hands. He knew Yunho hated it,  _loathed_  when Changmin mustered his power. It came as no surprise when Yunho retaliated by summoning his fire again. It was meant to burn but both knew Changmin was immune to it, and instead his hands clenched more tightly around Yunho’s.   
  
“I think you’re the one who’s jealous,” he mocked. He was playing with fire, knew he was quite literally, but it excited him, the mixture of rage and passion in Yunho’s eyes. He was supposed to be like this—a swell of ardent sensations and emotions that warred in an arousing conflict within. It was the source of his fire, of his ardor.   
  
“Fuck you,” Yunho quipped, rolling them forcefully again to be on top. He unlocked their hands and let one palm cup Changmin’s obvious erection between them, pulling a shocked sound of pleasure from him.   
  
As their mouths crashed together again, this time in a bruising kiss trying to crush each other’s will, Yunho didn’t waste time to divest Changmin of his pants before removing his own. He didn’t bother with their shirts—they could lose those after they got the first release out of their systems.   
  
“Does he fuck you?” Yunho asked, mouth hot against Changmin’s ear as he licked the soft appendage, fingers brushing over his entrance. Changmin bucked his hips up against the intruding hand, trying to take him inside but Yunho pulled back.   
  
“Depends,” Changmin gasped. “Does Jae fuck you?”   
  
It was at once exactly the right and wrong thing to say. Yunho gripped Changmin’s hips so tightly bruises would bloom before the hour was through. He attacked the boy beneath him, relentless as he sucked and bit his skin, his neck, protruding collar bones peeking out from beneath his shirt.    
  
“ _Yun—Yunho_ .” Every breath he took now was some whisper of Yunho’s name, some silent prayer for Yunho to stop, to stop the torture. But he needed him, needed Yunho to fill him and surround him and every bruise, every  _mark_  littering his skin was a form of claim that no one but Yunho was allowed brand him with.   
  
When it came to this point, when Yunho’s skin was blazing with desire and veins were thrumming with need, when Changmin could barely form a coherent thought beyond  _Fuck—more_ , that was when Yunho knew they were both ready. He didn’t care about seeing Changmin’s face or being able to kiss him at times like this—didn’t need nor want that kind of intimacy.    
  
The fact that he entered him, unprepared, facing each other was irrelevant, meant  _nothing_ .   
  
“ _Fuck!_ ” Changmin yelped, trying to push Yunho away. “Are you fucking crazy?!” His eyes pinched shut in pain, biting his tongue to keep from crying out.   
  
Yunho gripped his thighs, told himself he wasn’t trying to comfort Changmin for the pain he’d caused. He was only doing this to hurry them along, and he convinced himself of that. He didn’t say anything as he kneaded Changmin’s tense backside, clenching his member in a painful vice like hold.   
  
He didn’t wait either for Changmin to indicate when he was alright. He moved after a minute, pulling out slowly before thrusting back in, not pausing between the next thrust, or the next, until he was thrusting in earnest, pulling back and pushing in with enough force to move Changmin up the bed.   
  
By the scrunched look on Changmin’s face, Yunho could tell he was still in pain but he ignored it, too far gone now to stop. This wasn’t sweet or soft or intimate in any way other than the most obvious. There was no gentleness, no care as Yunho slammed again and again into the nearly unwilling heat under him. Changmin groaned and the sound made the experience even more intoxicating, the room doused in his light, in his muffled moans.   
  
He shuddered, fingers finding Changmin’s just as their mouths found each other again. Their teeth clanged like the mallets to a war drum, their hearts laying down the beat that Yunho’s thrusting followed.   
  
One sudden thrust, angled different or perhaps simply more accurate, had Changmin crying out, more pleasured now than pained.   
  
“Fuck—don’t stop,  _don’t stop_ ,” he pleaded. Later he would be ashamed of himself but now, here in the heat of the moment, nothing mattered but Yunho against him, pushing and pressing and forcing himself further, harder.   
  
Their skin slapped against each other, the sounds vulgar yet adding to the symphony of their mingled harsh breaths and Changmin’s groans. With a shiver, Yunho lost himself to the feelings and the emotions that only Changmin could elicit from him, only Changmin was  _allowed_  to elicit from him and only in these stolen, secret moments.   
  
“ _—Min_ ,” he breathed out, the name sharp as his hips came to a stutter, barely able to push through the last of his release. He could feel Changmin between them, aching and jerking up to meet his movements. It wasn’t perfect, he thought, but it was enough.   
  
  
  
  
Yunho’s fingers skimmed lightly down Changmin’s face as they lay panting afterward, too sated to do anything more. His jacket clung to his back, glued by the sweat dripping from him. He was sticky and uncomfortable but he didn’t care.   
  
Changmin was all sharp angles and hard, jutting bones as he pressed against Yunho’s side. They usually weren’t for this, but today there was something different in the way they came together, something different but not totally strange and not totally unwanted either.   
  
“You’re a dick,” he glowered, elbowing Yunho hard in the side.   
  
“I’m  _all_  dick,” he retorted and Changmin had to hide his ensuing smile from Yunho by burying his face in his arm.    
  
“Idiot,” he said, but it was said in begrudging fondness, because no matter how much of an ass Yunho was, he had a certain charm about him that somehow balanced it out.   
  
That, or the sex had just been that great.   
  
Changmin rolled over with his back to Yunho as he curled on his side. He drew his legs up, shivering lightly without Yunho’s searing heat warming his sated limbs. He’d extinguished the light in his hands a while ago, but Yunho was one to never completely let his flames go. Changmin had yet to determine whether that was from a sense of pride or insecurity.   
  
“Tomorrow?”   
  
Changmin rolled his eyes. “Can’t. I’m busy,” he answered, voice clipped as he ignored the annoyed groan coming from behind him.   
  
“Cancel whatever you have,” Yunho insisted.   
  
“Fine, so long as you skip your daily angel fuck.” He didn’t need to turn around to see the scowl on Yunho’s face.   
  
“Who said I was going to see Jaejoong again tomorrow?”   
  
“You did, just now.” The bed shifted and for a second Changmin figured Yunho was leaving.    
  
“Don’t act like a needy bitch. I pegged you better than that.”   
  
He barely suppressed a growl of outrage. How did Yunho always seem to know exactly the right words to say to set him off? “Fuck you,” he finally settled upon.   
  
Without warning, he was shoved from behind onto his stomach. He struggled to get up but Yunho had him pinned down again, this time straddling his hips and holding his wrists locked together in one hand above his head. His shirt stretched painfully over his arms but Yunho either didn’t realize it or, more likely, didn’t care.   
  
“See, here’s the thing,” he started. “I’d rather just fuck you.”   
  
Changmin groaned, keeping his head down and remaining low as he allowed Yunho to make good on his words.


End file.
